I am barely breathing as I write this. I feel shy, ashamed, afraid. But I am writing it because it came to me that it could be important for others to read. In Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life she writes, “One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.” On the second day of this September Blogging Challenge With Effy Wild it has come to me that I finally need to talk about this. Oh God help me. Here I go.

I have been blessed, in my life, growing up and through 31 years of marriage, to be financially secure, to have health insurance, to see good doctors of my own choosing. I did not, previously, have to worry about about how I would find and pay for health care. All that ended in February 2014 when my house burned down. Among all the losses, and there were many, physical possessions, beloved pets, and more, I lost any financial security I ever had, I had to cancel my health insurance, I was on the cusp of turning 60 at the time of the fire, struggling as I had my whole life and especially in my adult years with mental illness and after my marriage ended I fell into full blown agoraphobia in addition to clinical depression, a severe anxiety disorder, PTSD from a childhood full of abuse, and finally bipolar disorder. After the fire another layer of PTSD was added and I have not been able to get my bearings ever since. It has been like the tectonic plates in the earth, in the ground of my being, were forever shifting and I could not, have not been able to get my balance ever since. Everything in my life that made me feel safe and secure were swept away the night of the fire and I haven’t been able to recover. The last six months I have been drowning. I cannot see my way into a future. I am, as are so many other mentally ill, elderly, and low income folks afraid about money every day of my life. My therapist is trying hard to help me, my medications are being managed, I have loving family and friends and I love and appreciate them all but I do not feel safe and I am terrified all the time.

I need to take a breath…

After the fire my daughter Rachel, my staunchest advocate and supporter, stepped up to the plate to help me piece my life together. I simply could not manage at all. I was in shock, deeply shaken by the trauma of the fire, I didn’t know how to move forward at all. She became my financial power of attorney, helped me fill out all manner of applications, among them disability and medicaid, both of which were denied to me, and food stamps, for which I qualified for a modest amount. Every little bit helps. She found government programs for me — They are out there! They exist! Have someone help you find these things, do NOT go without the help you need! — that pay for both my therapy and the P.A. who manages my medications. And she found the clinic in town for low income families. There I found a medical doctor, a foot doctor when I needed one, and now I have finally given up my dentist of 22 years whom I loved so much. I simply cannot afford to go to her anymore. There is a dental office at the clinic. I went there for the first time this week. I did also apply, last year for the first time, for Health Net (which pays for medical visits if you are below a certain income which I am, for specialists the clinic does not provide.) and “Charity Care” (They paid for my colonoscopy in March or I would not have been able to have one.). At 63 now I am at a place I never imagined I’d be in my life. I sit at the clinic and feel lost and afraid. I have not had to use any of these types of services in my life and I have been ashamed, humiliated even. I have not been able to speak about it or write about it. I am doing so now because there are a lot of people out there who are not getting the care they need or don’t begin to know that some of these things are available. Gone are all the doctors with whom I had relationships for sometimes decades. I am a stranger in a strange land and I am not alone. And if you are reading this and going through any of this yourself, take heart, you are not alone, I am here with you too. And I’ll tell you something else…

I am beginning to feel deeply grateful for all of this help and all of these services instead of just being afraid and ashamed. “I never thought I’d have to live like this,” I have said so often in tears and feeling so hopeless, but guess what? I AM in this position now. I am 63, mentally ill, unable to work outside the home, I am divorced and alone with my little pugs and I need the help. And I am telling you from where I sit today that there is no shame in taking advantage of the help that is there to help you. Especially if you are mentally ill and need a good therapist and medication. Do NOT go without the help you need. I repeat, it is out there.

I dream of being able to do some work from home to help support me, to help me be more independent. I taught journal classes for 40 years. I have written professionally since I was 20. I have coached and mentored countless people. But… today, every day, it is a struggle to get up and get through the day and keep on going. I hold on hour by hour, sometimes minute by minute. I don’t know how I would be making it at all were it not for my 3 little pugs. They are my life. They sleep with me. I get up in the morning because I have to feed them and care for them, but once I make my coffee I sit clutching the mug often struggling to breathe. I am afraid all the time about vet bills. I know that I will not be able to afford to keep pugs when the day comes when my little ones are no longer with me.

I have not been suicidal in a long time, I am holding on, but as I look out toward the rest of my life, however much is left to me, it is impossible for me to know how I can hang on if I lose what I do have. I cannot see anything but darkness ahead. My therapist says that I am “perseverating” about the losses to the point that I cannot move forward. We are working together. I cannot see how to climb up out of this hole. But I can, I must, I will.

Getting older comes with a myriad of changes and adjustments, living with mental illness complicates things terribly both for the one who suffers as well as those who love them. Loss of income and financial security are devastating, terrifying. Put all three together and it’s hard to sleep at night, or even to breathe, or to believe there is a way out. But I am trying. I want to battle my way through this. I would like to write a book that people who are afraid can hold and know that they are not alone. A book that they can flip open anywhere and feel loved and cared for. I have imagined calling the book, If You Are Alone and Afraid, and Struggling, Come Sit By Me. I want to get through this myself and help others. I really do. I am not afraid to ask for your prayers and good thoughts that I can both survive and be of service. Finally, what else is there?

I will stop here but I really want you to know this. I hope you will come back and read my blog and know that if you comment I will answer you. You are not alone. I am not alone. It’s hard to remember this, but it is true.

I am sending warm regards and deepest blessings to each one of you. I hold you in my heart. I always will.